


The Glory We Have Known

by Heronfem



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adopted Krem, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Breathplay, Collars, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Massage, Mechanic Bull, Non-Human Genitalia, On Hiatus, Professional Dom Bull, Riding Crops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6331597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to save his home, The Iron Bull returns to work as a professional Dom for a company known only as Inquisition. Dorian Pavus, known by the code name of Urthemiel within the Inqusition's carefully guarded walls, is considered a difficult client, and placed with The Iron Bull in the hopes that he can help. </p><p>Together, they build something better than they were before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everything came to a head when Krem slapped employment papers on the table and said, “I need you to sign these.”

Bull felt his world starting to crumple as he stared at the stark black and white, the paper perfectly flat. Krem was meticulous with paperwork. “What's this?”

“A job. Construction. I'll start in the office and after I hit 18 he'll send me out to do proper work,” Krem said, sitting down next to him. Papers were scattered all over the table, the most of them bills. Most of them had red ink scrawled over the top. A calculator sat askew next to a notebook with endless sums on it, two pens, and a battered, near five year old phone. “It's the same company Uncle Scunner's with. It's the one Rocky works for, too.”

“Scunner's an art thief with a taste for marble, I'm not sure that I'd call that a plus,” Bull said dryly, picking up the paperwork. Unfortunately, it looked to be in order.

“Hey, he's done his time.”

“Not reassuring, Krem.” Bull sighed, running a hand over his face. “You shouldn't be doing this.”

“Chief,” Krem said, and Bull closed his eye at the exhaustion in his voice. He'd never been dad, or papa, or even patris. Always Chief, ever since he'd adopted a tiny, angry boy barely 10 years old and severely underfed. “Chief, look. I'm not blind. The way I look, I'm too obviously 'Vint to find any work bigger than this without a really, really good degree, and I'm better at math than you. I know how sunk we are. Two incomes, no matter how small, is better than nothing. I'm done with school, I've got my acceptance letter, and the company will help pay part of my tuition.”

Bull opened his eye, frowning. “How the hell did you get this job?”

“Four rounds of interviews and Rocky mentioning my 4.0 to the boss, who is, I quote, “A hardworking self-made man with a feel for an honest handshake”, and who wants to see more new blood in the company. The fact that I'm also majoring in business and not afraid to get my hands dirty helped. He wants to teach the business, I'm willing to learn.” Krem leaned back in his chair, somber. “Chief, please.”

Krem had been graduated for all of a week, and here he sat with a job, a plan, and a look of stubborn determination on his face that said, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wasn't going to budge on the issue. He'd been sitting on this for a while. Bull sighed, sitting back in his chair. He knew they were sunk, too, he just didn't want to think about what that meant. The house was in trouble, and after Krem it was the most important thing in his life.

“Only a quarter of your check,” he said with great reluctance as Krem brightened up. “Only a quarter. You work too damn hard already, don't burn yourself out. I'll... I'll see about picking up some more hours at an old place I worked. They might still want people.” He settled the paperwork, signed, and let Krem hug him while his thoughts wandered and OVERDUE burned red into his eye.

They ate a quiet dinner, and Krem went to bed while Bull made his rounds of the house.

It was a small thing, one story with a basement, and a massive, sprawling garden that he had coaxed into life from the rich Fereldan soil on his own. It was an old home, with wooden floors, fireplaces in every room, and comfortable furniture that he had spent his adult life collecting. His home was his greatest work, and to lose it now, after all these years, would just about kill him. He ran his fingers over the intricately carved lintel, with the delicate Qunlat hidden in between the crystal grace and embrium. _Shokra-kadan_ , it read. Rebellious heart.

He had poured his blood, sweat, and sometimes tears into this place, making it a home for his son.

It was time to make a few calls.

oOo

The name he knew her by was Helena.

It certainly wasn't her real name. She was a tall, broad built woman with a face that could generously be called handsome, and rudely called horse like. There was something about her that suggested, gently, the idea of toffee, finely bred horses, and extensively convoluted books on skeletal structure. She was the kind of woman one expected to see in jodphurs with a wolfhound that was more wolf than hound, riding around on a country estate and generally overseeing the affairs of the world.

The Iron Bull adored her.

It had been two years since their last face to face conversation, and Bull found himself in an extremely nondescript office downtown, a plate on the door reading simply _Inquisition_ in pressed brass.

Helena deftly poured him tea, and sat behind the extremely bland metal desk. “It's been a while,” she said absently, stirring her tea. “How are things?”

“They go,” he said simply, and she nodded, reflecting as though he had said something particularly profound. 

They finished the tea in silence, and Bull gently set the cup aside. A quick smile revealed gold capped incisors in her mouth, rather sharp. “To business.”

“To business,” he echoed. “I need back in.”

Helena cocked her head, leaning back in the plain gray swivel chair. “For pay?”

“Yes.”

She considered again, and pulled out a sleek laptop from a plain black laptop bag by her feet. Bull waited as she checked files, patiently breathing through the meditation cycles he'd been taught.

“We have space,” she said at last. “Would you be amenable to a bit of travel?”

“How far?”

“Downtown. We've opened a secondary venue. Haven is fine for the suburbs, but the rich want the itch scratched with shorter travel time. It's called Skyhold.” She snapped the laptop closed, looking him over thoughtfully. “There are perhaps seven I could pair you with. We've had trouble finding solid matches for them, and as I remember you tend to work well with even my most difficult cases.” She reached into the bag again, pulling out a thin manila envelope. He grinned ruefully, and she shrugged. “I expected what you would be asking for, and took necessary precautions.”

He opened the envelope to find a slim tablet. Keying it on, he typed in his code name, and it brightened to life.

The seven were referred to in code, in keeping with the Inquisition's code of discretion. Helena knew his name, but would only ever refer to him as Hissrad, keeping the illusion of privacy safe. He looked over the list, thoughtful. Characteristics and potential problems followed each name, and he checked each as he went down the list. He paused on the last, frowning.

“What's this?”

“Ah, you've reached our most recent addition.” Helena smiled, for once truly amused. “He could be trouble.”

“Urthemiel,” Bull said, exasperated. “Did you pick this or did he?”

“His first Dom did,” Helena said, shaking her head. “He needs quite a bit of work, and I have yet to find someone willing to put in the time with him, or who can handle his tongue. I'd handle him myself if he weren't gay.”

Urthemiel had a list of potential problems twice again as long as any of the others. Bull skimmed through it, frown deepening.

“Half of this just sounds like mistaken handling,” he said, baffled. “Who did you have him with?”

“One of the new hires, highly recommended from Antiva. Rain. Urthemiel is showing improvement, but it's at a glacial pace.”

Bull looked at Urthemiel's list again. “So. Let's see if I have this right. He's a bit of a brat, constantly pushing and acting out. He fights, but when he submits, he's perfect. He acts as though he were previously trained in one of the Tevinter Old Guard styles, probably Totalitarian or Vengeance, cuddles like he expects to be beaten at any second, but can barely tolerate further touch. Not a true switch, but not presenting like a “proper” sub, so people try to push him into the right responses and he rebels quick. And, if I'm getting this right, has only used his safeword _once_.”

Helena had gone very still, watching him with sharp hazel eyes. “I forget how good you are at this, Hissrad.”

“I want him,” he said, setting the tablet down. “I'll try the rest, and see what I can do, they don't look nearly so complicated. Dealing with someone who's been trained in the Tevinter Old Guard? That'll be the hardest part. Is it Totalitarian or Vengeance?”

“Totalitarian, we believe,” Helena said. “He's very tight lipped about his history. I dislike Tevinter's Old Guard, they can be needlessly cruel, and he shows every hallmark of being trained by someone who didn't have enough patience to do it well. He's been very well trained in presenting, that's certain, but it's clear he doesn't enjoy it. Rain has been trying to coax him into more fluid forms and getting exactly nothing out of him.”

“Not even the Rivaini Totalitarian school?”

She shook her head. “He doesn't care to hold still for long amounts of time, and likes contorting himself even less.”

Bull hummed. “When does he usually come in?”

“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.”

Bull whistled softly. “He needs it bad and he's not getting it, looks like.”

“That is about the sum of it,” Helena nodded, and he handed her back the tablet. “When can you start?”

“As soon as you want me. I'm only free after about three o'clock.”

“I'll see you Sunday, then. The address will be sent to you, as well as a code for the door guard.” Helena slid the tablet back in its envelope and set it in the bag. “We will have to get you settled into a room before we start anything. Do you have gear you wish to bring?” At his nod, she continued, “Excellent. Anything you wish to request at the moment?”

“A chair that'll hold my weight,” he said with a grin, and she chuckled.

“Certainly, Hissrad. Good afternoon to you.”

oOo

“I picked up a second job,” Bull announced as Krem set the table for dinner. “Evening work.”

Krem paused, looking at him, guarded. “Evening work, as in, I don't want to hear about it?”

“That's right.”

Krem hummed softly, setting down the silverware. “Just... be careful.”

“I always am.” Bull pulled him in for a hug, and after a moments token struggle, Krem relaxed into it. They stood there for a moment, and Bull sighed, letting his chin rest on Krem's head. It seemed not so long ago that Krem had been little more than a scrawny, scrappy little bit of a thing, with nerves strung tight and a tongue sharp enough to eviscerate even the smartest magister. He'd grown up good, and Bull's heart clenched at the thought of releasing him into the world.

“It's gonna be okay,” Krem said quietly. “Really.”

“I know, _imekari_ ,” Bull said quietly. “I know.”

oOo

Skyhold was housed in the kind of building that made Bull think longingly of picking up a brick and throwing it, just for the pleasure of watching glass shatter. A moderately sized skyscraper, it fit in neatly with the others of the surrounding area. A quick glance at the directory led him to floor 35 of 85, and a sleek, smooth elevator notably lacking a security camera let him off there.

A short hallway, uninspiring beige with two classical paintings on the wall of slightly erotic fruit (artfully arranged cucumbers, grapes, and oranges on one side, a solitary grapefruit on the other), ended with a man sitting on a chair at the end, reading a newspaper. There was a pair of very heavy double doors behind him, burnished steel. The man had a singularly impressive beard, and his dark hair pulled into a neat bun at the base of his head.

“Morning,” he said, with the faint burr of the Marches. 

“Morning,” Bull said, looking him over. “The weather is nice.”

“Indeed it is.” A page of the paper turned. “How nice would you say?”

“Enough to cause a fracas.”

The eyes flicked up, and a smile twitched behind the beard. “Blackwall.”

“Hissrad.”

Blackwall stood, and rapped twice on the door before saying something that sounded a little like nails on a chalkboard to Bull's ears. A well disguised code word, impossible to fake under the layers of illusion spells that the Inquisition employed.

The doors swung open on soundless hinges, revealing a glossy black laquered table with an artful arrangement of black roses on it. The wallpaper was a sultry red, with a subtle design to it.

“Enjoy,” Blackwall said with a wicked grin, and Bull gave him a flippy salute as he stepped inside.

The doors closed behind him, and he walked down the short hall to where The Ambassador sat behind a sleek black desk, tapping away at her laptop.

“Ambassador,” he said fondly as she looked up. She beamed at him, hurrying from around the desk to come and hug him. 

“Hissrad! It's a pleasure to see you again!” She stepped back, looking him over. “You've grown wider in your absence, it is lovely.”

He held up his left hand with a rueful grin, showing the two damaged fingers. “Lost a bit of weight, actually.”

The Ambassador gasped, taking his hand. “Oh, Hissrad, I hope this wasn't rope.”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Lost them while I was working on a car. It was a dumb thing.”

She tutted gently, patting his hand, and led him down a very red hallway. Haven had a much earthier feel to it, but Skyhold was practically opulent. She pushed open a set of black double doors, and he whistled softly as he stepped inside the main body of it all. A sunken area had a series of rich poufs, couches, tables, and chairs, with a raised stage in the center for pleasant viewing and a handsome amount of things hanging like a chandelier from the ceiling. There were smaller viewing areas off to the side, and she led him past those behind one wall, back into the rooms where things really happened.

Most of the rooms had glass windows with covered curtains, though one was open. The Ambassador paused, smiling as she looked in. He glanced inside, impressed by the slender, pale elf inside and his caning technique. With his dark hair and incredibly fair skin, he seemed almost monochrome.

“This is Mahvir” she said, nodding at the elf. “One of the newest, but he's excellent at what he does. One of the Nightingale's students.”

“Fantastic form,” he murmured, and she nodded.

“He's quite good. Curiously enough, also asexual and aromantic, but he enjoys the challenge and doesn't get too attached. He's very requested. When you meet him, just be aware that he is very quiet and gets horrible migraines at loud noise.”

“Explains the gag,” Bull mused, smiling at the sub bent over the bench. “Very pretty.”

He followed the Ambassador further back, and whistled lowly when she opened the door with his name on it. “Well, this is nice.” 

“It's the largest of our rooms,” she said, waving him inside. “We thought it best, since Helena is going to send so many to see if they're a good fit for you.” 

It was a comfortable, large room, with a massive chair so wide it was practically a love seat in the corner, a bed pressed against a wall (four poster, red hangings, lots of handy hooks), benches, St. Havard's cross, and an entire walk in closet for his use. Two of the walls were the same rich red used in the hall, and the others a warm, muted grey.

“Amazing,” he said, grinning. “I assume there are specific rooms for other scenes.”

“Yes, quite a few.” She coughed awkwardly. “You, ah. You may wish to see if you want to use one in particular.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she caved.

“The Orlesian branch sent us a set called “The Spoils of the Qunari”. It is very ridiculous and people love it.”

“Oh, Koslun's balls.”

oOo

The look Krem gave him when he walked out of the bathroom the next afternoon was a mix of confusion and amusement. “You look... nice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bull muttered, self consciously rubbing his horns. They'd been freshly scrubbed and balmed, the usual black of them considerably more shiny than usual. His stubble was a little more artful as well, and his hands very well lotioned. His shirt was exceptionally nice, a light pink, grey slacks paired with it. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows. His eye patch had been switched out for something considerably more silver, set with black onyx. It had been a gift from Ma'am.

“It's weird, seeing you look like this,” Krem said, almost gleefully. “I like it.”

Bull rolled his eye, rubbing his head (freshly shaved). “Stop being a little shit, go to bed on time, I should be back sometime around ten. Do _not_ break into the alcohol cupboard if Skinner comes over, I don't want you drinking without me here to supervise.”

“Got it.” Krem gently thumped his shoulder. “We're going to be gaming, I doubt we're going to do anything more than scream at the TV sometimes.”

“Good. And-”

“I swear I'm going to punch you if you tell me where the dental dams are for the eighth time. I'm eighteen in like, four weeks. Trust me on this, for once.” Krem rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Right, right, I'm going.” Bull ruffled his hair to see him squawk, and grabbed his coat off the hook. He paused to touch the lintel, tracing the words in it, and then let himself out the door. The day was just on the edge of warm, and fat bees were buzzing in the flowerbeds. He knew full well that the night would be brutally cold, but for the moment things were warm enough he could almost pretend it was a real summer.

The drive into the city was quiet, parking was simple, and before he knew it he was in front of Blackwall, being let into Skyhold.

Back to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we earn that E rating real damn quick.

Home.

Dorian Pavus, heir apparent to Asariel, Enchanter of the Minrathous Circle, and former apprentice of one Gereon Alexius, would have paid dearly to know where home really was on a dreary Monday morning. Rain pattered the outside of his windows, the faint roll of thunder in the distance promising it to be a wet and utterly miserable day.

His office was spacious, almost a perfect copy of Halward's back in Qarinus. The Asariel office of the corporation was his favorite, situated close enough to the great bay that he could easily go for a swim if the mood took him. This city, though, near Amaranthine but far from the coast, was a misery. The closest he came to swimming was using his building's pool, and he hated to do so. Of the many things he considered a pleasure, swimming in heavily chlorinated water after a long day of nothing but bland reports was not one of them.

On the other hand...

He rose, walking over to the window and staring out at the city. Skyhold's building was just three from his, visible from his window. 

The South certainly had its way to make him feel welcome.

oOo

At precisely five o'clock he was out of his office and starting down the block towards Skyhold. The day had cleared up considerably, chilly as ever but with more sunshine to it than before. He walked briskly, briefcase in hand, and was politely acknowledged by the door guards as he walked in. Mondays were his long sessions, his post work relief and start of the week relaxation. Two hours long, it wasn't ideal, but it was enough to keep him from drowning himself in overpriced brandy.

Rain was a decent Dom, so far as he was concerned. Not perfect, certainly, but he was competent and kind. It was a little depressing how low Dorian's standards were, but Rain was the best fit he'd had yet. Mahvir was too distant for him, Devourer didn't work with mages at all, and most of the other Doms had either not worked out, or were female. Unlike most that Dorian had worked with, Rain actively tried to make things good for him- which, he supposed, was what he was paying him for, but it was unusual none the less. Doms, in Dorian's experience, came in very few different flavors. The majority were those of the Old Guard who expected him to follow rules to the letter. Tevinter bred those faster than fat blue summer flies. The next largest group was the overtly aloof, then at the end were those that pretended interest in or cared for what he needed. Rain was of the last variety.

He was waved through the door by the bristly bearded guard, and headed to The Ambassador. A slim young man appeared out of nowhere to take his briefcase and jacket, and The Ambassador smiled brightly at him.

“Good afternoon.”

He smiled back, feeling some of the tension slide from his shoulders. The Ambassador was a kind woman, and took a particular interest in trying to make him happy. He was pathetically grateful. “Afternoon, Ambassador. You're lovely, as ever.”

Her eyes crinkled at the edges with her smile. “Rain is here, but Helena has a suggestion for you.”

“Oh?”

“We have a new Dom, one who was here for a time but had to leave us a few years ago. His name is Hissrad, and she thinks he may be a good fit for you.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “I suppose I can try,” he said, inwardly sighing. This would be his sixth attempt. Most of the other clients had people who fit them very well, but he was apparently difficult on all accounts. Of course, aside from the Devourer, he was the only Tevinter national.

The Ambassador stepped out from behind the desk, gently squeezing his arm. “I know it's difficult,” she said softly. “I know you're trying.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, putting his hand over hers. “I know that you try hard to find me a match. Rain is good to me, and that's all I can ask for.”

Her eyes flashed with sympathy. “No, not at all. We want you to be happy, not just content.”

He chuckled, letting her lead him through the doors. “Kind of you.”

“It is what we do.”

They walked through the main area, where someone in a very elaborate mask was being painstakingly tied up by Devourer in intricate knots, and through the side doors to the private rooms. As usual, Mahvir's curtains were open, and Dorian smiled at the sight. Mahvir was smiling for once, delicate hands tipping up the face of a man kneeling at his feet and gazing at him in pure adoration. Then he paused, taking in the golden hair and tattoos.

“Is that Rain?”

“Rain is a switch,” the Ambassador said with a shrug. “He and Mahvir do beautifully together, I believe they are queerplatonic. We expected you to try Hissrad, so he thought to steal a moment with Mahvir for now.”

Dorian smiled at the pair of them. “He seems very happy,” he said, pleased, and they continued down the hall.

The curtains to the room labeled _Hissrad_ were pulled closed, and it was by far the longest of the rooms. 

“You must be very impressed with him, with a room of this size,” Dorian said, eyeing the door. 

“Hissrad is an exceptional Dom,” the Ambassador said somberly. “We are very lucky to have him back. He is well worth the investments in this room, I assure you. We have missed him dearly while he's been away from us, and he's quite interested in meeting you. When we gave him the list of those he could potentially be a good match for, he requested you specifically.”

Dorian was flabbergasted, and some of that must have shown on his face. The Ambassador smiled, squeezing his arm again. 

“If you would like, I could have Rain come and sit in with you for this session, if you're uncertain,” she said. 

“No, I... I think I'll be fine.” He stared at the smooth, golden cursive on the door. “You speak highly of him.”

“He's quite worth praising.”

“Then I'll consider myself perfectly safe. Thank you, Ambassador.”

She smiled fondly at him, and gently straightened his collar. “It was my pleasure. Should you want for anything, I'll be here.”

They exchanged air kisses, and Dorian took a deep breath before pushing open the door.

He immediately froze, and the massive man in the chair grinned.

“I take it the Ambassador didn't warn you,” he said dryly. Dorian made a little strangled noise, his eyes flicking over the horns, the muscles, the ridiculously black cotton pants, and the eyepatch. _Qunari._ How had the Ambassador thought this was a good idea?

The man chuckled, curling one long finger in invitation. “Come in.”

Dorian slowly stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. “Let me be clear,” he said carefully. “I'm a Tevinter national. I work for a Tevinter based company. All of my schooling was Tevinter. I am very, very Tevene and proud of that, so if you intend to take out any lingering animosity on me I'd prefer to hear it upfront.”

The smile disappeared from the Qunari's face, and he looked upset. “Hey, no, I knew you were Tevene before you even came in. And I don't want to hurt you.”

“How did you know I was Tevene?”

The Qunari raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Your code name is Urthemiel. And I have to say, it fits you well.”

Dorian had never been more grateful for how difficult it was for people to see him blush. “I. Well. Thank you, I suppose.”

“As you probably realize, I'm Hissrad. And if you aren't okay with Qunari, that's fine. A lot of people aren't. I won't be upset if you decide you can't do this with me.” Hissrad waved a hand, and Dorian was struck by just how massive they were. “I'm out of the Qun, have been for a long fucking time. But there's a lot of people out there who aren't comfortable with a Qunari Dom. If it doesn't work for you, I don't mind.”

“The Ambassador said you requested me specifically,” Dorian said taking another cautious step forward.

“I did,” Hissrad confirmed. “You've tried six different Doms. You're here three days a week. And you're still unhappy. At the very least, I'd like to try. I think we could be good together.”

Dorian hesitated, then shrugged helplessly. “I suppose it can't hurt.”

Hissrad stood, and Dorian's eyes wandered over just how tall he was, and the little spark of heat in him did nothing to make him feel better about the situation. Hissrad grinned, clearly noticing the appreciative looks. To Dorian's surprise, rather than going to him, Hissrad went and fetched a chair from the walk in closet and placed it in front of the massive one that he had been lounging in. “Go ahead and sit,” he said, taking his own seat again. “Better to have this conversation on equal grounds.”

Dorian sat, a little uncertain.

“So,” Hissrad said, looking him over. “I've seen the list you put down for yes, maybe, and definitely no. I'm pretty flexible with anything and everything, so is there anything with _me_ specifically you'd like to try?”

Dorian's eyes flicked to those massive hands, his mouth going dry. “Breathplay,” he said, not quite daring to look up. It was odd enough, sitting on an equal level to a man who exuded enough calm, firm control that he was already starting to respond to it. Unlike Rain, with his bright laugh but firm hand, or Devourer's harsher tactics, or even Amarita's sky high heels and open disdain, Hissrad was in his element and already controlled every aspect of this room. Rilienus had been hard and demanding, and Dorian had thrived under the sharply enforced rules even while he feared the repercussions.

“Hey.”

Dorian looked up, startled. Hissrad looked a bit concerned. “Sorry?”

“You went somewhere, there,” he said quietly. “It didn't look good.”

“Just-” Honesty was the best policy. He didn't like it, but he'd had enough Dom's to know that at the very least, Fereldan sensibilities recoiled at the idea of Rilienus, Better to rip the scar open now, in case it was a deal breaker. It had been for the first Dom he'd tried, who hadn't been comfortable attempting to help him unlearn bad behavior. Dorian hadn't minded. He knew he was a handful, even if it stung a little to be reminded of it. “My first Dom, the one who trained me, he was... well. He was stern to the point of violence. He knew that pain was a quicker way to train me than pleasure, and I sometimes get the lines crossed. I like rough, I like demanding, but I would very much prefer not to break skin with you. I've had enough of that for a lifetime.” He realized he was twisting his hands in his lap and forced them apart.

Hissrad's knuckles had gone white where they were sitting on the chair. “Alright,” he said, his voice surprisingly even. “That's not a problem. I understand that Rain's been working with you on presenting?”

“Yes,” Dorian said, with a touch of bitterness. Rain's expression the first time Dorian had knelt for him had been intensely upsetting. Not pitying, but sympathetic, which almost made it worse. “I've been trying to learn the Rivaini form, I swear.”

“Would you be good with me trying something a little different?”

“By all means,” Dorian said, feeling a little annoyed. Hissrad caught it, smiling wryly.

“I'd like to call in Rain to demonstrate. You good with that?”

Dorian nodded, standing. “That's fine.”

“Then strip down, and hang your things in the closet.”

Dorian blinked, looking at the low clothing shelf just to the side of the door. “Sorry?”

Hissrad rose, stretching with a show of muscle that made Dorian's mouth water a little. “That suit's bespoke. I'm not going to make you fold it.” He seemed offended by the very idea, and Dorian couldn't quite help his smile as he went to the walk in closet and began to strip. Hissrad's voice was a warm rumble as he talked to Josephine through the intercom, and by the time he came back out there was a large, flat pillow on the floor by Hissrad's chair and Dorian's previous chair had been put aside.

“Kneel,” he said, nodding to the pillow, and there was a note of such pure command in it that Dorian was on the pillow in seconds, warmth diffusing up his spine. He couldn't help the shape that his body fell into, the training still sticking well, and Hissrad studied him.

Tevinter placed a great deal of emphasis on aesthetic over anything else, and Dorian knew that while the form was agonizing he looked gorgeous doing it. His shoulders were pushed back to the point of pain, his hands pressing ever so delicately to the side of his thighs, his head held at an arched angle that forced his eyes down, and his toes at points so the only balance he had was on the very tips of them.

The door opened, and Dorian flicked his eyes to the side to see Rain step, followed by Mahvir's sleek dress shoes. Mahvir walked to the other chair, sitting and draping one leg over the other with an elegance that Dorian admired.

“Head up,” Hissrad said, and Dorian straightened his head so he could watch. Hissrad smiled approvingly, and Dorian watched as Rain went to his knees. Hissrad gently carded through his hair, and Rain's eyes closed in pure bliss. Dorian absolutely didn't feel jealous.

“The Tevinter form, first,” he said, and Rain immediately changed his position to the same that Dorian had been in. It was truly a beautiful thing to see, even if it was obviously painful and hard to maintain. Dorian's thighs were already screaming, but he pushed past it.

“The problem with this form, and why I can't in good conscience let you continue using it, is mostly because it ruins your body,” Hissrad said conversationally, touching the back of Rain's neck. “Wrecks the shoulders, hurts the spine, hurts the feet, the list goes on. Beautiful, yes, but completely unbalanced.” He nudged Rain with his knee and Rain immediately toppled over. Rain sat back up after a nod from Hissrad.

“The Antivan style, next.”

Dorian didn't mind the Antivan style. It was a little more aggressive than he liked, but it was handsome in its own way. Rain's head went up, looking straight ahead. His hands went behind his back, high, so that his arms jutted out to form perfect triangles, the fingers lacing together behind him, and his feet crossed underneath him as his thighs spread. 

“Given how damaged your shoulders probably are, this isn't a good match for you,” Hissrad continued, resting a hand on the back of Rain's head. “Aesthetically speaking, it's just fine, but not what I'd like to see from you. Orlesian style.”

Dorian hated Orlesian presenting, and Hissrad must have seen that on his face. He had a little smile as he gently adjusted one of Rain's arms. Orlesian style involve widely spread legs, balancing on the toes, and arms locked behind the neck and the chest pushed out. It made him feel exposed and on display, and he hated it. Rain clearly wasn't a fan either, but Hissrad gentled him with a quiet murmur of, “Easy,” and a hand to his shoulders.

“Clearly this one isn't your thing,” he said with a smile, and Dorian dared a short, sharp nod. Hissrad chuckled.

“Finally, Fereldan.”

Dorian blinked as Rain lowered himself with a sigh of relief. His feet went flat to the floor, legs resting comfortably about a fist width apart. His back straightened, his head coming back so that he was looking ahead, but demurring, and his hands rested comfortably on top of his thighs. It was incredibly solid, and had a certain beauty to it. Like most things Fereldan, it was the kind of sturdy and determined that Dorian had come to admire.

“This form,” Hissrad said, “can be done two or three different ways. This is the most common.” He pushed Rain, and Rain didn't even sway. “It's stable. It's elegant. And it's not going to hurt unless you're sitting in it for hours at a time. Most of all, it doesn't make me feel like I'm going to have to worry about breaking your ankles.”

Given that Dorian did know some in Tevinter who had broken ankles in the position he was in at the moment, he was suddenly feeling very charitable towards Hissrad. That Hissrad was so immediately accepting, and willing to work with him rather than scolding, was a mark in his favor already. Dorian decided as Hissrad quietly praised Rain and Rain looked up to him with his face wreathed in complete contentment that this was more than worth a shot.

“Thank you, Rain,” Hissrad said with another stroke through his hair, and Rain stood, smiling.

“It was not a problem, sir,” he said, and Mahvir rose from his chair with a whisper of fine fabric. Rain stepped to the side, letting Mahvir breeze past, and followed a precise two steps behind. The door closed, and Hissrad stepped forward, gently running a hand through Dorian's hair.

“Well?”

“I'd like to try,” Dorian said, leaning into his hand without thinking. Hissrad's hand was huge, solid and reassuring. 

“Good,” Hissrad said, his voice a low purr, and Dorian shivered. “Up.”

He stood smoothly, ignoring the ache in his knees, and Hissrad brought the chair back.

Dorian hesitated, and Hissrad looked him over, his eye sharp but not unhappy. 

“Want to sit on the bed instead?”

“Please,” Dorian said, too quickly, but Hissrad didn't seem to mind. They moved to the bed instead, and Dorian immediately wanted to just roll over and luxuriate in it. It was deliciously soft, but firm enough that his back wouldn't complain. There was just a fitted sheet on it, soft cotton. Hissrad chuckled, seeing the way he was eyeing it. 

“You like the bed, huh?”

“It's very nice,” Dorian said, touching the sheets.

“It is. So. I saw collars on that list.”

Dorian's fingers twitched, and he struggled to keep his voice even as he said, “I like them. A lot. More than I should, probably. I like feeling- not owned, exactly, but tied to someone.” Collars had been the very first yes on the list he had on file

“I have a pretty wide variety, but I prefer to have things made custom,” Hissrad said. “If this works, and if you eventually leave, it'll go with you. You good with that?”

“Yes,” Dorian said immediately, not bothering to hide his delight. _Custom_ work? No one had ever gone that far for him. He shifted his weight so he could sit cross legged, feeling happier than he had all day. Even just the promise of a collar made him feel light again. He'd always been a sucker for gifts, and while he fully understood that their relationship, such as it was, was confined to Skyhold, a collar was something he lusted over. Hissrad was clearly trying to make him comfortable, and it was working. “You said you saw my kink list- I would like to go over each thing with you in time. I'll be honest, I'm quite content so far. You have quite a presence to you.”

Hissrad chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

“I'd imagine. What title would you prefer?”

“Just about any statement of respect will work for me. I rarely push for it unless the mood calls for it,” he said with a shrug. “I know I'm in charge, and unless people need reminding or want to emphasize it I don't use it much. I've worked with some who can't even stomach saying the words, and prefer to just speak with reverence. Sir is what I hear most, and I'm fine with that. My Lord, however, is not going to work. At all. It's a hard limit.”

“Don't worry, I'm not comfortable with that as well,” Dorian said. “I suppose we'll see what inevitably slips out.”

“Of course.” Hissrad smiled. “One more thing. If there are days you don't want sex, but want to be in subspace anyway, we can do that. I'll admit, I like that a lot.”

“I didn't realize that was a thing that people did until moving here,” Dorian said, feeling his cheeks heat a little. “Rain introduced me to the idea.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I'd like to try it,” Dorian admitted. There was a certain appeal to the idea of being even somewhat domestic, and the idea of simply sitting and being showered with affection was... well. Dorian wanted it, and wanted it _badly_.

“We could try that today, if you'd like. See where it goes, if it suits you. You alright with it turning sexual after?”

Dorian sucked in a breath, nodding quickly, and Hissrad chuckled. The feeling in the room changed, Hissrad becoming a little more intent, and Dorian felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

“So eager,” he said, his tone approving. “Rain said that you have a bit of a tendency to be a brat when the mood strikes you, but today you'll be good, won't you?”

“Yes,” Dorian said immediately, and went willingly as Hissrad pulled him down, letting him sprawl over his thighs. Dorian went limp as his heavy hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, quieting any lingering nerves, and the tension melted completely away as Hissrad scratched at his scalp. Hissrad hummed to himself, smoothing his hand over Dorian's back, and Dorian let out a quiet, happy noise. Had Hissrad been the first or second Dom he'd tried, he would have been nervous, even anxious. But this was his sixth attempt, and so far not a single one of them had been cruel or unkind, and Hissrad was clearly experienced.

“Rain knows my real name, as a precaution,” Dorian said, pressing into Hissrad's hand. “Would you like it as well? Urthemiel is something of a mouthful.”

“If you'd like to give it to me, I'd be honored.” Hissrad seemed startled, but rather proud to be trusted with such a thing so quickly.

“Dorian,” he said. “My name is Dorian.”

Hissrad rewarded him with a gentle squeeze to the back of his neck, and Dorian shuddered as pleasure shot through him. “Thank you, and I'll honor that trust,” he said softly.

Dorian let himself be lifted bodily with one huge arm off of Hissrad's lap, and spread out face down on the bed.

“I'm going to cuff you and put on one of the extra collars I have,” Hissrad said. “That acceptable for now, until we can get yours made?”

“Please,” Dorian said, already starting to float, and Hissrad rubbed his back a moment before rising. Dorian let himself sink into the bed, feeling the ache as his hips realigned a little. Soft cuffs were on his wrists shortly, long leads attaching to the bedposts. They were so long that Dorian would be able to move his arms without issue, but strong enough he certainly wouldn't be going anywhere.

“Kneel for me for just a second,” Hissrad said, and Dorian got to his knees. Hissrad pulled him back a little so Dorian's back was pressed to his broad chest, and Dorian whimpered softly as one huge arm wrapped around him and a broad hand wrapped around his throat. Dorian let his eyes flutter closed as Hissrad explored his neck, squeezing gently as a quiet emphasis to how strong he was. Dorian shuddered again, this time in want, and Hissrad kissed the top of his head. “That's right, good boy.” 

The hand disappeared, and Dorian sagged in relief as a collar, thick and heavy but loose enough for Hissrad to get his fingers under it, was strapped around his neck. Rilienus had never used them, saw no need, and Dorian had been ashamed for a long time before coming to Fereldan and seeing the pride on those pairs who wore them. Rain, he knew, was skittish around them, and he'd never pressed the issue with him. It had been a small price to pay for how kind Rain had been.

Hissrad pressed him back down into the bed, and Dorian went willingly. There was a soft click, the scent of sandalwood, and Dorian let out a long, relieved moan as Hissrad's hands dug into his tight shoulders. Hissrad chuckled, bending to kiss the top of his head as he straddled Dorian's hips, pinning him very effectively. 

“I was right,” he said conversationally. “Your shoulders are a wreck.” He ran his hand down Dorian's spine, hissing quietly when he felt the lumps of muscle knotted to either side. Dorian knew the second he'd found them- the first masseuse he'd ever gone to had initially thought they might be tumors, which had been a bit terrifying. Dorian groaned quietly as Hissrad pushed on his back in a few places, his back cracking loudly as the spine fell into alignment. The quick burst of false pain was tempered with the relief of it dissipating.

“You've...” Dorian tried to speak, his tongue heavy as he sank. “You've done this. Before. S'a thing.”

He could hear Hissrad's smile as he replied, “Yeah. Done a bunch of things in my life. I actually have a license for massage, did the schooling and everything. Couldn't keep up renting a space, though. So here we are instead. Time to put it to good use.”

“Mmmnnn, ver' good use,” Dorian mumbled, moaning as Hissrad hit a particularly tender spot on his ribs.

“When you're back on Wednesday I'm going to check your hips,” Hissrad said, his voice brooking no argument. “If your back's this bad I can't imagine how bad those are.”

“Yes Sir,” Dorian mumbled, and, well, that answered that question. Hissrad chuckled, kissing his neck, and Dorian smiled into the pillow.

He lost track of time in the smooth push and pull of pain and pleasure as Hissrad worked out the knots in his shoulders and back, even managing to loosen the great lumps that caused him so much pain in his lower back. By the time Hissrad finished he was both achingly hard and completely boneless. Hissrad lowered himself, bracing his arms to the side of Dorian's head and lowering himself. Dorian sighed happily as he nosed at Dorian's hair, pressing soft kisses to the skin he could reach. He wasn't as deep as he'd gone in other sessions, but this was somehow much more fulfilling. 

“You were so good,” Hissrad purred in his ear, that rich rumble making Dorian shiver. “Want to make this sexual?”

“Yes, Sir,” Dorian managed, his voice a little slurred, and Hissrad bit lightly at the tender skin behind his ear to make Dorian tremble.

“If we had the time, I'd work you open and fuck you while you're so sweet and pliant for me. You've been so good for me,” Hissrad praised, a note of proprietary pride in his tone.

Dorian whimpered as the praise washed over him, his heart lighting up. Hissrad's teeth scraped lightly over the shell of his ear, and one hand reached down to cup Dorian's hip.

“Instead, I think I'll finger fuck you till you come.”

Dorian's hips twitched, and Hissrad chuckled, low and dark. “That's what I thought.” He squeezed Dorian's hip again, hard, and Dorian moaned into the pillow. “Just a moment.” 

Dorian couldn't have moved even if he wanted to, given that Hissrad was still straddling his hips to keep him nicely pinned. There was a faint click and then Hissrad shifted further down his legs, pulling Dorian's hips up effortlessly. Dorian groaned softly at the first touch of slick fingers to his hole, and went obediently still as Hissrad's free hand smoothed down his back to grasp his neck again. 

“Good boy,” Hissrad murmured, and Dorian shivered at the heat in his voice, cheeks warming a little. He was so relaxed that the first finger took almost no time as all, and after a few moments the second joined. Hissrad had wonderful, thick, and _long_ fingers, and Dorian pressed back into them. It felt so good, and Dorian spread his legs as best he could. Hissrad indulged him with a few thrusts before curling his fingers and making Dorian see stars.

Dorian had always been able to come just by being fucked. He'd always been rather proud of it, honestly, and Rilienus had liked it so much he'd worked on training Dorian to be able to come on command. It wasn't something Dorian could do anymore, as Rilienus had tied the command strictly to himself, but Dorian hardly cared. He had much better sex these days, and didn't give a damn. 

With Hissrad's fingers rubbing smooth, tight circles on his nerves, he didn't give it long. His hips rocked a little, and Hissrad took his hand from his neck to hold him still.

“No you don't,” he murmured, squeezing him, and Dorian moaned. “Keep still for me, handsome.”

Dorian lost the thread of his words after that, only hearing the warm, rich purr of his voice. His cock ached, precum dripping onto the bed, and he thrashed as Hissrad pressed down hard.

“Please,” he begged, as Hissrad tightened his grip and forced him to be still. “Please, Sir, let me.”

“Shit,” Hissrad breathed. “Ask nicely, sweetheart.”

Dorian's whole being soared at the endearment, even as he bit back a desperate sob of need. “Please, please, _please_ Sir, please let me come, Sir.”

Hissrad circled his fingers once more, and growled out, “Now.”

Dorian bit down a sob as he came hard, fingers scrambling on the sheets and the chains dragging with them. Hissrad worked him through it, gentling him down and to the side. Dorian let himself slump down, sighing in contentment as Hissrad settled on top of him, smoothing a hand down his side to settle him.

He relaxed, only to let out a happy little groan as Hissrad began pressing biting kisses along his back.

“Mmnnn, that's new,” he mumbled, shifting so that Hissrad was firmly on top of him. “S'nice, too. Thank you, Sir.”

Hissrad huffed a laugh, and Dorian tipped his head so Hissrad could kiss up his neck. He'd mentioned in his file that he didn't care where marks were left, so long as his face wasn't damaged, and Hissrad seemed to be considering the idea.

“Hissrad,” Dorian said, pressing back against him and making his voice sweet and needy. “Hissrad, Sir.”

Hissrad's massive hand slid down to rub soft, easy circles on his hipbones. “What is it, pretty one?”

Dorian's cock made a valiant effort to be interested again, and he ignored it. “Mark me, Sir?”

Hissrad growled, low and hot, and Dorian tilted his head up as teeth sunk into his neck. He whimpered, pressing back into Hissrad's solid weight, and shivered as his tongue ran sharply over the mark he'd left. Unlike the ones dotting his shoulders, this was going to linger for at least three days. Dorian couldn't bring himself to care about what a pain covering it up before work would be.

“Damn,” Hissrad murmured, nipping at his ear. “I can't wait to put you through your paces, see what I can wring out of this gorgeous body. What do you think, beautiful? Interested in sticking around?”

Dorian smiled, wriggling a little to make Hissrad force his hips back down. “This was a good idea,” he said, warm and content, and let himself drift as Hissrad lavished attention on him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ft. Qunari physiology, blow jobs, and a riding crop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Dragonflies-and-katydids for cheerleading me through this. Finally.

Krem liked to ambush him with questions when he was sitting down. Bull didn't mind, mostly because Krem was still kind of scrawny and short and had a bit of a complex about it. He had a bit of growing still to do, and Bull was, not to put too fine a point on it, enormous. Krem didn't like being loomed over and Bull didn't like getting punched to the gut when Krem had a fear reflex.

So he wasn't surprised when Krem waited until he was sitting down at the kitchen table after work to abruptly appear next to him.

Bull put down his sandwich and waited. Krem was shifting on his feet, telegraphing his nerves as loud as if he was shouting.

“We need to talk.”

“Okay.” Bull waited.

Krem took a slow breath, then said, carefully, “I want to know what kind of job you're doing.”

Bull stared at him. “Like... the details?” he said slowly, a little alarmed. “Because there's a lot of confidentiality statements.”

“I- what? Ew, no, I don't want to know _that_ ,” Krem said, wrinkling his nose. “Look, just- I know that it's sex work. Of some kind. I just want to know if-” He broke off, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, let me try again. In Tevinter, we were neighbors with a woman who worked the streets. She would take care of me if the shop got too busy, and she had a fancy fighting fish that I was obsessed with. She'd let me come over and I would spend hours just watching this fish be a fish. And then one day I went over and she was gone. Just... dead.”

Bull reached out, and Krem took his hand without looking.

“I don't want to come home to that,” he said, his voice cracking. “I just need to know that you're safe.”

“Aw, shit,” Bull said, standing up and pulling Krem in to hug him tight. Krem clutched his shirt, shaking a little. “I'm safe, I swear. I work in a very, very safe place, with good people that I've known for a long time. It's a business, and a good one. You remember that time you got my second closet open?”

Krem nodded, then pulled back. “ _That's_ what you're doing?”

Bull's room had two closets, one normal sized and the other a shallow thing that had once been a linen closet. It was normally used to store his gear and toys, and firmly locked- however, Krem had managed to get into it one day when he was about 15. _That_ had been an interesting conversation.

“That's what I'm doing,” Bull confirmed. “It's all above board, there's security, and frankly I'm big enough to handle just about everything.” He grinned at the look on Krem's face. “And don't worry, I'm the one doing the tying up, not the one getting tied. It's okay.”

“That's more about your sex life than I've ever needed to know, thanks,” Krem said with an eye roll, but he looked relieved. “Did work go well, then?”

Bull nodded sitting back down, and this time Krem sat with him. “Yeah, it went really well. I got to talk to some people who'll probably be regulars, and my first pick of them worked out great. He's Tevene too, actually. Seems like he's had a rough time of it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He's been trying to find a good match for about three months,” Bull said with a wry smile. “This job, it's not just a walk-in thing. The clients have to go for testing every month, same as me, and they're matched with people that suit them and can work with them best. This guy... he's lonely. Needs a friend just as much as anything.”

“Alti, probably,” Krem said absently, stealing food from Bull's plate. “They have a shit time of it, at least the kids do. Then they get old and turn out like their parents. No real friends, no loving family, just lots of drugs to shut up all the self hate and a lot of slumming it. I remember there was a guy who used to visit one of the guys who walked the street, and then he'd walk back to the Gold Quarter singing in perfect ancient Arcanum after. Mage, flashy one.”

Krem rarely talked about Tevinter. He'd been brought to Ferelden under refugee status, and then his parents had immediately dropped their claim on him before returning to the homeland. Bull had happened to be in the right place in the right time, and snatched Krem out of the grip of a Bann that he'd distrusted on sight. He'd been only just barely been ready for a child, let alone a child that, while wearing a terrifyingly frilly dress, was very quick to insist that he was a boy, thank you. Fresh from being cut from the Qun, alone and uncertain of his future, Bull had wound up being the best choice Krem could have had, marching down to get paperwork started within the year and finding a doctor that was both not racist and capable of being decent to Krem. Bull had worried for some time that his lack of discussion about the past meant abuse, but was reassured that it was simply Krem's way of handling the pain of separation.

“I hope it works for you,” Krem said, patting his arm. “Be careful and all that.”

“I will,” Bull said, and Krem punched him in the arm for good measure.

oOo

Bull's day job was a little more boring.

He had two, actually. When he had the time, he did medical transcription, and the rest of the time he worked in a tiny repair shop with Grim. Grim specialized in restoring classic cars, while Bull handled a lot of the others. They did decent business, but not excellent, and they were in the middle of a slump. Grim's cheeks were a little more gaunt, and when Bull arrived Wednesday morning he winced at the look on his friends face.

“Fight with Stitches?”

Grim nodded, rubbing his forehead. He looked tired, haunted.

“How bad?”

Grim shrugged one shoulder, and said quietly, “Not leaving me.”

“That's good then,” he said softly, and they got to work.

Stitches and Grim had met after Bull's fingers had been destroyed. Grim had been in the ambulance with them, and had apparently broken down completely as Bull went into surgery. After that, somehow the pair had wound up together. Stitches was ex-military, deadpan, and loved fiercely. He and Grim made it work, between PTSD and being selective mute, and Bull hoped they'd pull through things.

The day passed quickly, and Bull went home, showered, got dressed, and went back to work.

It was a lot less back breaking and a lot more pleasant, so he didn't exactly mind, and his first healing of the day got rid of the ache from work. One of the definite bonuses from working at Skyhold was a healing session after every one of his clients, which kept his health in amazing shape and saved him from the concerns of any diseases being passed on. Clients underwent testing once every month as well. Helena was not about to have an outbreak of anything from colds to the Blight on her hands. Both the clients and the workers got to enjoy the benefits about not having to worry when it came to disease.

His first was a woman with a love of wax, followed by a man who wanted nothing more than simple bondage, and then, finally, Dorian.

He was lounging in the chair as the door was pushed open, and he smiled as Dorian cautiously stuck his head in. “Hey there.”

“Ah, hello.” Dorian stepped the rest of the way in, shutting the door behind him, and Bull rose, motioning for him to stay put. Dorian froze, breath getting just a bit faster, and Bull walked over to let himself loom over him. He reached up, stroking down the soft silk of the tie Dorian wore, and slid his fingers behind the knot of it. It forced them to press against the bob of his throat, and Dorian's eyes darkened. Bull smiled, pressing his knee between Dorian's leg as he stepped closer, one hand going up to brace on the door. Dorian's head tilted back so he could see, baring the long stretch of throat, and Bull tightened his grip on the tie to drag him forward into a kiss. Dorian melted into it, and Bull growled softly into it to feel him shake. He let Bull control the kiss, and Bull spent a moment just enjoying it. Dorian was good at what he did, sweet and needy, and Bull liked that in a man.

“Miss me?” he teased, and Dorian's hands found their way to his hips.

“I may have canceled a meeting to spend some quality time thinking about how _much_ I did,” Dorian admitted, breathless, his mouth already kiss bruised.

“Damn,” Bull breathed, feeling heat swell in him. He dragged him into another kiss, pressing his fingers against Dorian's throat to make him gasp and squirm with need. Dorian's hands moved to his chest, short cut nails dragging down, and Bull pressed against him harder. Dorian grew still, and Bull smiled against his lips before pulling his head back. 

“Safeword?” he asked.

“Katoh.” 

Bull was startled to hear Qunlat out of Dorian's mouth, but kept from showing it. “Good. Strip down, hang up your clothes, and get on the bed. I'm checking your hips before we do anything.”

Dorian beamed, and bounced up on the ball of his feet to steal a kiss before heading to the closet. Bull rolled his eye but smiled. He went and draped himself in his chair. It was truly enormous, big enough to fit him with someone straddling his legs, and had been engineered so the soft arms could be removed and replaced whenever he wanted. The Ambassador had promised he could take it when he went, and he was definitely going to hold her to that.

Dorian emerged in record time, climbing onto the bed, and Bull smiled at the noise he made as he planted his face in the pillows.

“I'm getting jealous of the bed,” he said, getting up, and Dorian made noise that might have been protests.

He went to get the long chained cuffs again, and Dorian held up his arms to let him strap them down. Bull climbed onto the bed with the collar in hand, and Dorian sat up so that he could wrap his arm around him again. 

“You love this, don't you?” Bull murmured, holding Dorian's throat and feeling the pulse there.

“I do,” Dorian murmured, his eyes fluttering closed.

Bull gently squeezed, feeling Dorian's pulse pick up a notch and his breath quicken. “One of these days we're going to have a _lot_ of fun with that,” he purred, and Dorian shivered. He bared his neck obediently for Bull to strap on the collar, and Bull kissed the still very visible bruise he'd left on Monday before letting Dorian back down and fetching the oil.

He hadn't been wrong. Dorian's hips were an absolute nightmare, and he tightened down the chains so that Dorian wouldn't be able to squirm quite so much as he began working out the knots and aches. Dorian made increasingly upset noises into his blanket, and Bull smiled as he felt the muscles start to ease back into place. For one thing, there was a bit more give to that gorgeous ass, and that was always nice. After some gentle rearranging, with a quick jerk he had the mans hip back in place. Dorian let out a tiny wail of shock at that, his eyes snapping open, and Bull hushed him as he gentled a hand over the now certainly uncomfortable hip. 

“That _hurt_ ,” Dorian said, and Bull let him move it. He was careful with it at first, and then pure glee lit up his face as the lingering pain dissipated. “I take it all back.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Roll over and I'll get the other side back into alignment.”

Dorian did so with a happy smile, and groaned as his hips settled. Bull chuckled, kissing the curve of his shoulder.

“No alcohol or caffeine for you,” he said firmly. “Lots and lots of water tonight and tomorrow.”

“I'm getting sensation back in my legs,” Dorian said, wiggling his toes. “Oh, that feels funny.” He let out an actual giggle, and Bull grinned at the back of his head.

“All right, up you get. Walk around a little bit before we try anything.”

He unlocked the chains, and Dorian stood, stretching up onto his toes and the bending down with enough flexibility to put his hands flat to the floor. Bull watched as he contorted himself into a series of increasingly complicated moves and stretches with all the fluid grace of a classically trained dancer, and his eyebrows shot up as Dorian went into a handstand and into the scorpion pose seemingly without any preparation.

“Holy shit,” he said, and Dorian cackled gleefully. “I had no idea you could do that.”

Dorian gracefully fell into a tumble and sprang back up, beaming at him. “Wonderful, isn't it? I've been lazy and not gone to get my hips fixed but _now_ , well.”

Bull whistled under his breath, looking him over. “Shit, we're going to have a lot of fun with that.”

Dorian came back over, climbing up into his lap. He was grinning brightly, and Bull rested his hands on his waist. Dorian was built solid but lean, the kind of tone that came mostly from swimming. 

“So, just a guess, but do you swim?”

Dorian's smile widened. “I do. In Tevinter I used to swim in the ocean, but now I can only use pools. It's far too cold here to try and swim in the Amaranthine, and it is a bit far.”

Bull chuckled, running his hands down Dorian's sides to watch as he arched into the touch. “Yeah, I can't say that swimming in that would be a good idea. Between the cold and the abaan-ataashi you'd have a pretty rough time of it.”

“Abaan-ataashi?”

“Ah- sea serpents in Trade.” He smacked Dorian's ass to hear him yelp, and with a quick twist had him pinned to the bed. Dorian put his arms back up obediently for the chains to be attached, and Bull tightened them down again. Bull grinned, and had Dorian lift his head enough that he could tighten the collar down further. Dorian's eyes went a little hazy, and Bull spent a moment holding his throat as he considered what he wanted to do. Dorian squirmed under him, and he tightened his hand, raising an eyebrow. Dorian stilled again, and Bull smiled.

“So,” he said, drawing the word out to make Dorian shiver. “Now that I've got you, what am I going to do with you?”

Dorian relaxed, and Bull chuckled, dipping his head to run his teeth over the tender skin of his neck. 

“I like that you didn't have my mark hidden when you came in,” he growled, keeping his voice low and dark. Dorian shuddered, letting out a breathy little sound. “Keep that on display while you were at work?”

“Yes,” Dorian breathed, and shit. That was hot.

Bull ran his fingers over the collar, a little smug. “Not shy about showing off?”

“Not at all. Have you seen me?”

That startled a laugh out of Bull, and Dorian seemed pleased with himself, settling back into the bed. Bull absently ran a hand down Dorian's chest, smiling at the feel of fine hair. He detoured to lightly tweak each nipple before sliding down. Dorian's head had fallen back, and Bull decided to dedicate himself to learning Dorian's body. Dorian wasn't complaining, clearly, and so Bull took his time working his way over his body. Dorian arched into every touch like he was afraid it would be taken away from him at any moment, and Bull took a moment to gentle his hands over his thighs, soothing him and letting him relax a little more before working down to feel over the bulk of his calves. Once he reached Dorian's feet he hissed softly, picking one up and then grabbing the sandalwood scented massage oil again.

“You need better shoes,” he said, digging his thumbs in, and Dorian made a noise like a dying whale from the pain. Bull didn't relent, forcing his foot still even as it jerked. “Seriously, your feet are in even worse shape than your hips. What the hell did you do to them?”

“I- ow ow ow- I don't know.”

Dorian arched up as Bull worked over the arch, trying to get away, only to flop back down when he realized the pain was dissipating. Bull smiled, pleased with his work.

“Do you wear shoes at home?”

“Sometimes?”

“Stop. Let your feet settle and learn your weight again. And find some shoes with decent arch support, holy shit.”

Dorian grumbled under his breath. “Yes, _sir_.”

Bull absently swatted Dorian's thigh. “Don't sass me, boy.”

Dorian squirmed, ducking his head, and Bull flashed him a wicked grin before working on the other foot. By the time he was done, Dorian was in a much more receptive mood and making tiny, plaintive noises in a bid for his attention. Bull cleaned his hands and straddled him again, putting weight on his hips. Dorian's face went a little blissful as they popped, any lingering strain gone.

“So,” Bull drawled. “Now that you're less likely to die of spontaneous stress combustion, let's get back to business.”

“Yes Sir.”

This time there was no hesitation, and Bull smiled, leaning down to press small, biting kisses along the column of Dorian's neck.

“I'll be the first to admit I'm generally way too big for humans at first,” he said when he sat back up. “So if you want me to fuck you, that's something we'll have to work on.”

“Noted.” Dorian smiled up at him. “I'll admit to being perhaps a bit of a size queen. And I very much enjoy sucking cock, so if you've no objections-”

“None at all,” Bull said immediately, laughing, and Dorian looked rather pleased with himself. Bull smoothed a thumb over the softness of his mouth, smiling when Dorian obligingly opened his mouth. He slid two fingers in, and watched with a slight smile as Dorian's eyes went soft and hazy, and the smile grew as Dorian chased the fingers when he pulled them out. He reached up and unclipped the chains, climbing off the bed and shucking off the pants. The noise that Dorian made was rather flattering, and he settled himself in the chair before beckoning Dorian to join him. Dorian climbed off the bed and padded over, dropping to his knees on the cushion Bull pushed in front of the chair. He settled between Bull's legs, clasping his hands behind him and looking up.

“I appreciate you trying to pull the innocent expression,” Bull said with a grin, “but I know you better that that, I think.” He reached out, stroking through Dorian's hair. Dorian leaned into it, and Bull made a mental note to handle him often. He seemed touch starved. “Since I'm in a particularly good mood, I'm giving you a choice today. We can either start working on training you up so I can fuck you, or you can suck me and I'll decide if you get off.”

Dorian licked his lips. “The second, Sir,” he said, voice gone a little husky, and Bull wasn't surprised. Fifth on Dorian's yes-no list had been orgasm delay/denial, and Bull was man enough to admit he liked the feeling he got from controlling that.

Bull gently pushed his head forward, and Dorian moved a little closer, daring to put his hands on Bull's thighs before leaning in.

“Go ahead,” Bull said lazily. “Take your time.”

Dorian made a noise that was all hunger. 

Qunari, as a general rule, were built like humans with horns stuck on. There were a few differences, and initial inspection that his cock always got a lot of interest from non-Qunari. There wasn't much taper, and the head was wide, with tiny ridges ringing it, and thicker “plates” of muscle that formed the tiniest ridges along the length of the top. Bull, knowing who he was as a person, also had modifications on his. Five beads sat along the underside of the shaft, only just visible and just enough to add to the friction. Those he had gotten when he'd first been sent out on assignment, years and years ago, and still loved them. 

Dorian looked like a kid in a candy shop, debating where to start, and Bull chuckled.

“Take your time,” he said fondly, running his fingers through Dorian's hair before letting him loose.

Dorian considered for a moment, and glanced up at Bull from under his lashes before loosening his jaw in a very businesslike manner. His eyes had a somewhat determined gleam, and Bull leaned back as he lowered his head, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. It was definitely a bit of a tease, given the sheer heat in Dorian's eyes when he flicked them up again. Bull didn't have time to process that before that tongue was on him and he didn't have much brainpower to think with.

Dorian was the kind of dedicated that made researchers weep, and the kind of filthy that made even the most grizzled Dom's cheeks heat up. He didn't hold back, and Bull's head hit the back of his chair as he groaned, a little blown away. Dorian explored with incredible control and patience, playing over the beading and feeling each tiny ridge of muscle. He had muscle control like nothing Bull had ever seen. He dug his fingers into the arms of the chair to keep from grabbing Dorian's head as a soft huff of breath lit up his senses, and he felt more than heard Dorian chuckle smugly.

“Behave, boy,” Bull growled, and Dorian smoothed his hands up his thighs in apology. The sentiment was entirely lost as he started bathing Bull's cock with tiny kitten licks, deliberately delicate. Bull forced his head up to watched just as Dorian loosened his jaw again and began sinking down on him, the soft heat of his mouth once again making his head fall back.

“Ohhh, shit that's good,” Bull growled, and felt Dorian shiver. He reached up, gently running just the tips of his fingers through Dorian's hair as he kept himself firmly planted in his chair despite how badly his hips wanted to take advantage of the heat. “Very good, very good.”

He grinned as an idea hit him, tightening his hand in Dorian's hair. “Up,” he ordered, and Dorian reluctantly pulled off, his pupils blown wide and already fucked out.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Fetch me the long crop from the closet.”

Dorian's eyes widened a little bit, and he hurried to his feet. Bull watched him go with no small amount of appreciation. He was a lucky man, that was certain.

Dorian returned with the crop in reverent hands, and Bull smacked it against his hand a few times to get a feel for it. Dorian watched, licking his lips, and Bull flicked it up to press the soft triangle of leather under Dorian's chin. Dorian followed it obediently, and Bull hummed his appreciation, making him turn his head side to side. “Damn,” he purred, looking him over. “You're quite the beauty, aren't you? How'd I get so lucky?”

Dorian shivered again, and Bull felt a small burst of triumph. So, praise definitely went over well.

“Back to work,” he said cheerfully, pulling the crop away only to swat Dorian's ass. “You'll be getting off on what I give you of this, or not at all.”

“Yes Sir,” Dorian breathed, dropping to his knees again and going to with gusto. Bull let his hand rest on Dorian's head, smiling with lazy fondness as Dorian moaned softly. 

“Shhh, slow down a little sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere,” he said warmly, and Dorian positively trembled. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased, and Bull began lazily running the crop over his back, simply getting him used to the feel of it. Dorian eased a little more, making the sweetest noise as he pressed into Bull's hand.

“That's it,” Bull murmured, sliding the crop from his back and sliding it down to rub over his torso. “Good boy, relax for me sweetheart.”

Dorian made a soft, needy noise, and Bull caught his breath as Dorian sank another inch. 

“Holy shit, Dorian,” he breathed, stunned, and Dorian carefully pulled back before descending again. Bull's breath stuttered as Dorian's nose pressed against him, his eyes fluttering shut as his throat worked helplessly. Bull forced himself to keep taking calm, slow breaths, and slid the crop down to let Dorian roll his hips against it a few times. Dorian's hands were tight on his thighs, his hips jerking a little as he forced himself to stay down as long as he could before carefully, gently pulling off.

“Damn,” Bull breathed as Dorian took a moment to gulp down some air and grin triumphantly at him.

“No gag reflex,” Dorian said smugly. “Just takes a bit of work. Sir.”

“Well, I'm impressed,” Bull said, running a hand over his cheek.

“I've been told I'd have an excellent career in porn, Sir.”

“I wouldn't doubt it.” He lightly flicked the crop, just enough to make Dorian squirm. “That's the last break you're getting.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Dorian smiled up at him, and Bull lazily rubbed the crop up and down his cock as Dorian began working him again. 

In many years Bull had many different partners, and he'd learned a lot of fun and interesting things. He was still learning Dorian's tells, but the tighter jerks as he deepthroated Bull again and his face went blissed out was a pretty solid one. The man clearly had a _thing_ for breath play. Bull waited until he was dangerously close to coming before flicking the crop, hard, and feeling Dorian jolt sharply.

“Dorian,” he warned, and Dorian's hands tightened stubbornly on his legs, his hips rolling against the crop.

Bull chuckled, relaxing as he came. He wasn't as young as he had once been, and while his body had a much quickly refraction than humans, he was still approaching the middle of his forties. Dorian groaned around him as he pulled off, pressing his face into Bull's leg as Bull gripped his hair and let him come messily over the crop, panting. They came down slowly, Dorian panting and Bull breathing hard, and Dorian happily let himself be pulled up into Bull's lap.

“Look at you,” Bull breathed, smoothing Dorian's hair back from his forehead. “Shit, you did so well.”

Dorian's smile was almost blinding, and Bull let him cuddle up against his neck, gently running his hands over his ribs to his hip. He nuzzled into Bull, and Bull let out a rumbling noise that had him relaxing even more.

“Good boy,” Bull murmured again, and Dorian hummed, kissing his skin.

“Bed?” Dorian asked, nosing softly at him, and Bull chuckled.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

They migrated to the bed, and Dorian draped himself on Bull before letting Bull pull a blanket over them. He hummed softly, and Bull rubbed his back as he drifted, yawning hugely. 

“Go ahead and sleep,” Bull murmured, softly stroking his hair. “There are alarms set for me, I'll wake you up.”

Dorian smiled, leaning up for a soft, lingering kiss, and settled to rest his head over Bull's heart. He was asleep in moments, and Bull tenderly ran his fingers through his hair once more before following him, letting sleep gently swallow him up.


End file.
